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Tuesday, November 24th, 2009
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1:20 am
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B vitamins are amazing. I hereby solemnly swear to do my utmost to keep them in my possession at all times.
Some yoga, a massage, and a few billion hours of sleep, and I may just be all patched up.
Why does cheap yoga have to be at noon? Noon is so very much like morning!
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| Monday, November 23rd, 2009
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1:11 pm - we interrupt this dreaming for some technicolored Hroooobleh
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Gah! I overslept (thank the gods, I slept) and so cannot post my dystopia dream in any detail. Well, if it was even a dystopia. I couldn't live that way, but the sheeple seemed happy until the painball doom . . .
also need to catch up two conference dreams here. Because I dream conferences now. Subconscious? You are sometimes silly and cute in your associations.
Last night was a bitch. I finally passed out at 8pm (shut up I got 40 min of sleep the night prior), but woke up at 2:20am. Just as I was in the middle of a very stern talk with my body about how it is expected to sleep THROUGH the night when exhausted instead of getting up for no good reason, it went HRRRROOOOOBLEEEEEH. Oh. So that's why you got up. Well, why didn't you say so?
After far too many hours of that, I finally left the room (with a spitup bowl) to go in search of mom's magic anti-nausea stuff. It was magic, alright. It was high-fructose CORN SYRUP. Um. I could wring the neck of whoever said, "Hey, placebos work, right? Let's market one!" They even went so far as to make it taste like cough syrup. Maybe cough syrup is just high fructose corn syrup too, or maybe they thought a medicine taste would up their believability. Either way, these people should be shot.
With corn syrup.
Fortunately my angriest friend was up late to avoid his live-in girlfriend, so we caught up a bit. I love that guy. I have a habit of loving people who stick with me, and of the guys who kidnapped me for the funnest summer ever, he decided to stick it out when the rest of them got five kinds of stupid.
I was back in bed and out cold at 5am, which is impressive because I was still spewing colorful gatorade at 4:30. Now that I'm up my sinuses still burn and ache, my eyeball is still buggy, and my neck and head hurt like the little bitches they are, (seriously body. I tried to be nice for YEARS. I'm really good and mad at you now. You are damned lucky you're irreplaceable) . . . but! I am conscious, and yawning, and not gagging, and I slept, and all these things are wildly positive.
Now it's time for a long class day, a haircut, maybe another tan if I get real crazy.
Yes, I finally kept my promise to myself and tanned yesterday. It was mostly glorious. I bought $4.35 eyewear instead of sticking disposable stickers on my eyelid this time, though, and the stuff I paid for didn't work very well. I think if it were blocking UV light the way it should, the world wouldn't have been bright, painful purple. Especially as the little bug-eyed eyeball covers were in fact red. Huh. Would it be crazy to double-layer? Well yes, of course it would, but I don't really care overmuch about that specific flavor of crazy. I do care about my eyeballs. 3PO tells me of his once vibrant grandmother who can neither see nor hear, and so has no way to enjoy much of anything, much less books. Um! That must never happen. I think I could live as a head in a jar as long as my library card got enough use.
And that's it. Coming up: the four-colored, uh, "topia," since the level of control over its denizens was too much for me but they all seemed like very nice people, and a couple of cabinet/conference dreams. Wish I remembered them all better.
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| Tuesday, November 17th, 2009
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7:57 am - Wait, Really?
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So two nights ago I could have eight hours of sleep, one night ago was five, and last night I was granted four???
Ewwww. I don't like where this is going.
I know, I know. Shut up and do my homework until I can't anymore. Ugh.
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| Saturday, November 14th, 2009
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12:16 pm
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The spark of energy was not an accident. The oral steroids let some crap drain last night. Wooooo! Still in pain, but less so. And I only slept eight hours! Glorious!
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| Thursday, November 12th, 2009
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4:56 pm
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WOW headache. I am completely worthless today, and that's really all that needs to be noted.
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| Tuesday, November 3rd, 2009
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2:14 am - PS
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If this blog were a novel, I'd be on pace for 45,000+ words by the end of the month.
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| Monday, November 2nd, 2009
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3:35 pm
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I am full of brilliant thoughts today, but one escaped while I was writing the others. Grrrr!
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3:26 pm - Time and Space
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Campus is situated inside of a unique 4D environment where time and space are wrinkled just perfectly to ensure that any two places not immediately adjacent take 15 minutes to walk between.
For serious. It takes 15 minutes to walk ANYWHERE. How is that even possible?
Parking lot to student center: 15 minutes. parking lot to the lakes way on the other friggin side of campus: 15 minutes. parking lot to stadium: 15 minutes. parking lot to class: you guessed it, 15 minutes. Lakes to stadium: 15 minutes. Stadium to student center: 15 minutes.
This may be part of a wider phenomenon, as it also takes 20 minutes to drive anywhere in this town provided it is more than two turns, and if you want to see any sign of civilization (ie, another city) it is 2.5 hours in absolutely any direction. Pick a direction. Go straight for 2.5 hours. BAM. Small city! And yet, miraculously, there is not a perfect circle-city around us.
This isn't the midwest. It's the twighlight zone.
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| Friday, October 30th, 2009
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2:02 am
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I'm amazed that run-of-the-mill dictation software costs money. Grab a cheap microphone, talk to your computer, save it as a .wav or .mp3 and play it back. Seriously? If it isn't built into the OS, it should be the smallest, handiest little teeny tiny freeware program ever. I'll grant that my programming and audio knowledge is paltry, but . . . it just can't be that tough!
I've downloaded any number of free dictation trials to get me through the four german exams, and I already miss the one that expired last go-round. I considered buying it. As an iPhone user, I'm trained to pay $1-10 for functionality, so I checked it out. Holy moly, the cheapest option is $70? Ack! Die in a fire.
I'm similarly amazed that sound quality is so good in one program and so bad in another. Um. What are you doing differently, exactly? Same hardware. How come my voice is so hard to distinguish but ambient hisses and pops are so damned loud (fortunately there's a feature to remove them, which just makes my voice sound creepy weird in the total absence of ambient noise. Shudder!)? Huh. It's interesting, but certainly won't keep me up at night.
Right about now, I doubt anything will. :) I was uncharactaristically sleepy enough to sleep at 10pm. I'm going to come right out and say I think I have sleeping sickness in addition to a sinus infection. 'Cuz it ain't mono. I haven't swapped spit with anyone in . . .well, let's not talk about that.
Wish me luck with modal infinitives. I haven't quite grasped them, to be perfectly honest. That and these strings of 3-5 verbs all packed together. What is that?? German, apparently!
Time to rig my dictation to play on endless loop and call it a night. As much as the muffled sound of my own voice in a creepy environment with zero ambient noise makes my hair stand on end (seriously. it's so bad I spent 3 seconds considering paying the damned $70), there's something about learning a language by listening to exactly what you need to hear, over and over, for the price of an hour I would have been studying anyway. whee!
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| Thursday, October 29th, 2009
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2:22 am - fortunately - unfortunately
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The good news: extension
The bad news: still tired enough to sleep 14 hour days, and trying to fix my own phone is going worse than this: http://xkcd.com/349/
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| Monday, October 26th, 2009
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10:34 pm - Jon Stewart says it better.
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As much fun as it was to describe components of flu and what we have and haven't found infectious before in known human history ( and what a vaccine is and how it's different every year, ass), Jon Stewart, as always, says it better.
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| Friday, October 23rd, 2009
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9:42 pm - Wine Tasting
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What a lovely evening! I was concerned it would go poorly. I'm exhausted, I accidently stuck myself with something that looked like a date (the invitation said "pair!"), and I knew I had too much to do to stay long and might regret it. Plus, I'm coming down with things, and there's always the pain issue . . . painkillers and booze don't mix without casualties!
But it was lovely. I knew my hosts and their apartment were lovely going in, of course. This is why I went: I finally wound up back on their invite list, and would fall right back off if I didn't attend.
The Caribbean answered the door in a sunny yellow dress with a white cardigan, black tights, and reddish brown knee-high boots. It sound ridiculous, but she more than pulled it off and looked nothing but upbeat and fashionable, which she is. She didn't even slip into "artist" territory--it looked well-designed, not eccentric.
She immediately started screaming. I assumed it was the happy-to-see-you-after-all-this-time scream, and tried to ramp my enthusiasm up to a more acceptable level. She kept screaming, and gestured toward the top of my head. Oh~! Right! My hair! It's gone, and some people didn't know that. We had the perfunctory hair talk when she got over the screaming, and she said she loved it but misses the red. I can get behind that. In fact, I had a Lively Auburn wash-out bottle ready to go when I realized I had no time for color when the wine tasting gig was so early. 7pm is early!
3PO found something that wasn't a shiraz, and I grabbed a bag of root chips. Our hosts were very pleased to see a varietal of not-shiraz, but I was more than concerned about my cheater's "appetizer." Particularly when I saw the bread bowl of curry with toasted bread squares, the homemade blueberry scones with lemon glaze, and the one that made me gasp: two beautiful hand-thrown handled bowls with sliced bell peppers and grape tomatoes*. I spent much of my time dipping red and yellow peppers into curry, closing my eyes and "Mmmmmmm"ing with every bite. Caribbean insisted we "get together, don't be a stranger" sometime soon, and I suggested we could meet up and she could teach me how to make such delicious curry. She thought this was a fabulous idea: first we cook, then we eat! Everyone's happy.
Truth be told, whenever someone asked me what my "favorite" was, referring to the wines, I immediately said the curry took the cake, and none of the wines could hold a candle to it.
I felt bad for dipping one end of the pepper in, then the other (without ever dipping the bitten part back in!) because some people still freak out about that, but I found some plates and a spoon, and all was well after that. I'm paying lightly for the few potato chunks in the curry, but it was more than worth it.
I managed to test three wines, pouring very little into my glass. There's something about pouring wine, I guess, and it was always 4-7 sips in my glass anyway. By the time I was past my third wine and onto my third full glass of water, I was slightly peeved with myself for being "done." I hate being tipsy when I'd rather be sober, and I wanted to be sober so I could try more wines! We had organized sheets to make notes about the wines we tried, and C3PO was so excited by this investigation that he forgot I was even there, and tore into meticulous note taking with zeal.
I ambled off into the most comfortable looking bowl chair in the flat (it wasn't, and I'm paying for that, too) and tucked myself into a tipsy, slightly reeling half-ball like I normally do when I sit. I hoped it wasn't too rude to have my bare feet on the furniture. I'm never sure. I should always wear socks, I guess, because I prefer to tuck my feet up with me instead of leaving them on the floor.
I sat and observed that way for a while. I'm sometimes accused of extroversion, but I'm not sure it's merited. I only talked to a few people I didn't know, and only briefly: one couple about their biology work (they were interested in environmental sciences, naturally) and a few people in passing about various delicious food and wines we were both oggling or trying.
I was concerned my $4 Terra chips would be downright embarrassing next to handmade scones, bread bowls with curry, and fresh veggies so artfully displayed, but they looked nice and people raved about them. Someone was convinced I'd gotten them from a Trader Joe's far and away, and that such delicacies are not available in this area. They are. You can get them from the little local chain everyone knows, or from Big Mart. They're everywhere, in fact. I told him so, as he dove back into the chip bowl eagerly.
Phew! I'm so glad I wasn't embarrassed.
As I sat back in my chair-bowl, trying to find the magic contortion to make that comfortable and more importantly, to sip water and sit perfectly still until the room held still again, (shut up I know that doesn't make sense I'm still drunk) a handsome Indian man roughly my age sat entirely too close and started a friendly interrogation. He was intelligent, polite, friendly, but I was having none of it. Hi, I don't know you and I'm cornered. I was polite, and he was interesting, talking about his world travels, how things are different elsewhere, and his engineering department, but his intensity had me wincing internally, convinced this exchange would end in a request for a phone number or something. He was particularly interested in my birthplace (he asked if I was German and I initially said no, but then admitted I had German blood, but that hardly matters in the States, now does it?) and nodded and sat back a bit with satisfaction when I told him the state and area.
It kind of threw me, when I'd already been thrown. When I felt I'd exhausted the bounds of my politeness, I drained my water in a hurry and planned to hop up quickly from the bowl chair, knowing it would be quite the trick but I didn't care anymore. He noticed the empty glass. "More wine?" he offered. I decided to mistake this for a fact-finding question. "Mmm hmm," I said quickly, and hopped up, lunged for the table, and used body language to say I am here with THIS guy. 3PO never noticed. Couldn't have noticed. This is a man who wears black shoes with khaki pants and invites vegetarians to eat meat, after all**. I took advantage of his ignorance and completely ignored the Indian professor from then out. Oh yes, he was a professor. Somehow that made it weirder. It's entirely probable that I was the one being weird and he was perfectly friendly and natural, but admitting that the awkwardness may have been entirely self-generated didnt' make me want to steep in it any longer.
I asked a very surprised 3PO to take me home, and quizzed him to be sure he didn't want to stay longer. He surely did, but said all the right things regardless, and we told our very surprised hosts we were departing just 2 hours after it began, at an early hour when most parties are not yet begun. I understand why it was such a very long party: it was comfortable, "elegant casual" as Caribbean put it, and there were so very many nice wines to try that it made all the sense in the world to pace oneself through the evening, but I hit tipsy and knew I was going to stay there for some hours to come. No more wine for me! I especially didn't want to encourage my sinuses to get worse (they likely will anyway) or to wear myself out and fail at homework the rest of the weekend.
I hope no one was offended by the early departure. It was lovely, and I'm very, very glad I went . . . headache, backache and all! I had so many curry-dipped veggies that I left feeling like I'd had an exquisite meal with a nice wine, rather than a wine tasting with nice appetizers. Every time Caribbean walked by she encouraged me. "Yes! Yes! Dip the veggies! We don't have enough bread!" Hee hee. I had no intention of touching the bread, of course, but the encouragement was appreciated all the same.
They already did Italy and Spain at other locations, and I think South America is next, though it's at a different apartment so I may not be invited. When they've done all the regions, they'll hold one last wine tasting where the favorite white and red of each nation are offered, and grand winners are picked by voting. I voted for the white lexia without even tasting it. There were only two whites at the party and I didn't try either of them, but I'm confident in my choice. (the other white wasn't chilled) I listed my favorite red from the evening, too: something called a "ball buster." I tried that and two shirazes. I've decided that a shiraz kicks me in the teeth with the first few sips, and I have to get halfway through the glass before I like it. Or maybe I tend to pick more mellow shirazes. Or perhaps I just wasn't in the mood tonight . . . but as lovely as everything was, they felt like strong, spicy assaults on my tongue. The Ball Buster won my vote because of the three I tried, it was mostly shiraz, but mixed with cab and merlot so it wasn't nearly so punishing.
It. Was. Lovely. I vowed to host such a party in the future. It'll be so fun to have my own place and host events again!
The Caribbean and her German expressed not a small amount of interest in the lawyer's proposed game/graduation party, so maybe that could actually happen. My old roommate might be interested in that, as well, and of course 3PO will go anywhere I invite him. I got excited about it again. The German and the Caribbean aren't gamers, but they're game for most things, and Caribbean, Julie, the German and I can sure tear up a dance floor! Two days is a perfectly reasonable trip, and enough time to fit in catching up with friends, game "night" (which may become game afternoon), one night dancing, and some fabulous ethnic food from around the city. Yep, I'm excited again. Old friends and new, with something very exciting to look forward to after graduation to mark a big change so I have something to look forward to when it's all over.
Good.
Now, I just plan to stay up until I'm sober enough to take some pain killers and drift off to sleep and to work tomorrow, then study on Sunday. What a great week!
*they brought it with hummus, but who eats hummus when curry is around? Absolutely no one, that's who. The hummus remained untouched all evening.
**Let the record state that I have worn black, blue, and brown all at the same time. In public. That is all.
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| Thursday, October 22nd, 2009
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11:40 pm - trains and compromise
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Today was trains, cold drear, and reaquainting with friends. I nearly called her an "old" friend, but no one is a friend older than a decade.
I'm very, very tired. So tired that I might go to bed without washing off the public transportation, which is crazy. One busdriver of a very nice chartered coach announced that if we have laptops, we might be interested to know the bus had wifi.
I found no such wifi, but wasted much of the ride looking for it anyway. I was only in the third row, and piped up to say as much as politely as I could, but earned a nasty glare from someone behind me who clearly considered bus wifi a pampered pleasure of the rich. Who . . . ride public transportation? Riiiiiiiight. Nevertheless, the busdriver didn't hear me, and that glare was more than enough to keep me from asking about wifi for the rest of the the trip.
I couldn't sleep, but was too tired to do much else, including read.
I'm still glad I mysteriously woke up before 7am on very little sleep, though. Taking the second train made a day trip almost make sense.
Mission accomplished, anyway: I went to the city and saw my friend. It needed to happen. As a bonus, I got a flu shot! Just the regular flu, though, which is unfortunate as they think most flu cases in this area are in fact H1N1.
I don't just smell like public transportation. I smell like the last train and the last bus of the day, when the chemical toilets have exceeded their processing capacity.
I am thinking about sleeping on the floor.
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| Wednesday, October 21st, 2009
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6:19 pm - priorities
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I have a LOT to do!
And I'm prioritizing my social life, because when I have time for these people they won't have any. It's a rule or something.
But for serious, where did break go? And I don't mean last night, because I slept 12 hours. I mean all of it.
I have a very clear list of what I need to get done, and if I feel okay on Sunday it is do-able.
I should cancel chicago, but I can't. If I do, I'll never hear the end of it. I'm not sure why it's my job to travel to see people when they moved and I told them it was a bad idea, but it is. So I do.
To do:
biology lit review.
figure out why bio grade is so squiffy. apparently things are "weighted." Huh. Well, that makes more sense of the math that made no sense, but eww.
two quick papers for erin brockovich
some research for erin brockovich. Ewww!
Catch up on some serious german lag
study for friday german exam
that's it! I also have another econ exam monday, and that grade needs to come up a bit. 64s are Bs, and I mostly have 61s and 62s. *sigh* My fault for paying so little attention I don't even have the book, but with just a tad more effort, say 3 hours a week, I should be able to pull it up.
My sinuses are worse today. Boo! I need to stay well and do many many things!
Um. But I'm still prioritizing game night, chicago, a wine-tasting, and work. I can't get out of work this week. I know I can't. And I could miss game night, but then who would I be? Someone who is not me, that's who. And Chicago, like I said, never hear the end of it. Major friendship damage for getting the lawyer's hopes up and then bailing. Major! And the wine tasting . . . is hosted by an ex roommate and his girlfriend, both of whom I very much enjoy, and they don't usually invite me to stuff. So! I have to go to that too.
I haven't touched the RTS or Hulu all day! Just a paperback book, and ONLY while I was eating!
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| Thursday, October 15th, 2009
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2:21 pm - Car Hospice
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Midas did such an incredibly poor job that they cost me $500 when they said my car was fine three times I took it back in saying it was still leaking CO2 and engine coolant, and they kept saying, "Whoops! We tightened it and it's fine now. No other leaks. Really!" I wound up calling them from an hour away when my engine cooked on the side of the road. It was the radiator, and it was bone dry. And oh look, I cooked my car. I'm lucky it still runs.
I asked about re-coring as opposed to replacing my radiator, and the charismatic shop manager assured me that the thing was "completely shot. Rusted through. I'm looking at it, and it's a lost cause. You can come in and I'll show you . . . " That was good enough for me, so I had them replace it . . . and all the things that blew up when it cooked.
I saw the radiator when I picked up the car. The same manager couldn't even find the leak, and proposed we run water through it to prove that there even was one. Um . . . completely shot, huh? You can tell from looking at it? This is not as you described, is it?
He admitted it was not, and had no further explanation for what he claimed on the telephone. The radiator in question with the toxic substances inside was mine to keep if I wanted it, though. I declined. Here's hoping they dispose of their bio waste properly. I'm guessing it's hard to fake antifreeze disposal, but I could be wrong.
It's six months later. I just scoffed at a "six month checkup" voicemail they left me. Riiiiiiiiight. I don't particularly care what discount you offer me on breaking my crap. I'm not giving you another go at it.
But oh, I'm smelling exhaust . . . and, oddly, gasoline . . . in my cabin again. I triple-checked the seal on the aftermarket gas cap I installed, and I'm no expert but it sure looks okay. I took it to a seemingly fair shop that my mother used once, a gas station that does repairs nearby. They heard my story and inspected my exhaust thoroughly. Nada! They suggested that I was actually smelling the small amount of oil that I'm aware is burning, or that antifreeze is burning and coming in through a busted intake.
"It would be $700 just for the intake," they said, "but your engine is knocking. It can go at any time. My advice is to start looking for a new car and sell this one before the engine goes."
I have junked all of my cars. I strongly the idea passing off a bad car to someone else for money, and I ride them all until they reach the "bad" stage, readily detectable by a layperson or no.
I absorbed the bad news and went home and refused to talk about it, but as I drove my car a little longer, I assured myself that this was not, in fact, antifreeze or oil. How I think I know better than mechanics I'm not sure, but I know what exhaust smells like, and I know what gasoline smells like, and I've burned oil and played with antifreeze before, and damnit, this is gasoline, both combusted and not!
I got a shitty small amount of sleep last night which sucks double because I'm coming down with some kind of whopper cold (which is so much better than the flu that I will take the resulting sinus infection and like it, damnit. Please don't eat my lung lining! I am a high-risk flu person who can't get a flu shot because everyone else made a rush on them and my doctor is still being a brat. They used to set one aside with my name on it and call me until I came and got it because, as they said, flu can equal death for me. I hope they're just being dramatic, but I've never had a doctor threaten me with death before). I got up crazy early to drive this thing out to a non-stinky region of Stinky Town, following mom all the way.
We shopped. They looked.
I wound up slumping on benches in shopping centers, actually. I'm that tired.
I returned to the shop after 40 minutes or so, and was sitting on their open wifi when the mechanic came in with a spark plug that appeared to be 30% full of mud. Or . . . oil. And fuel. Which is also apparently in my . . . uh, oil tank? Yeah. Whatever you call that. As he described this to the boss, I said, "That's my car, isn't it?" Yep. The spark plugs are SO BAD that they aren't combusting everything, which is making the engine knock and could have destroyed it. It may or may not have done damage, and I don't know of any way to tell whether or not it did. I should ask about that, and ask them whether they cleaned the crap out of everything so the fuel residue doesn't continue to eat . . . uh, everything.
I knew I was burning a bit of oil, so that put all the pieces together for me. That explains both the fumes and the gasoline smell, plus the knocking engine. "So . . . I need new spark plugs . . . and . . . an oil change?" Yep. $140. I wish I'd though to ask about cleaning, but I'm not an expert. Unfortunately, that's the drawback to this former-mechanic-turned-repo-guy. He finds what you ask him to find, and he fixes what you ask him to fix. If there's something I don't think of, he doesn't think of it either. An amazing resource, but one with limitations. They kind of forget details, too, like when I ask them to check the air in my tires. Given that they have saved me and others I've taken to them thousands of dollars, I do not complain when they forget to check the air in my tires.
I gave midas corporate a nasty phone call. They "checked" the spark plugs, damnit. The spark plugs that are now "the worst they've ever seen," the spark plugs that tried to murder my engine and poisoned me with toxic fumes.
And I'm soooooo glad my car is probably okay. A little nervous about the "probably" part, but mostly glad. It is never a surprise when one of my cars dies, but it is still a trauma. I'm like an end-of-life care facility and Jack Kevorkianin one for these old things. :-/
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| Sunday, October 11th, 2009
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6:03 pm
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I have ramped down my goals for the day. If I go tanning, hit the gym, and complete german I'll be please with myself. If I somehow fall asleep tonight I'll declare complete, total victory. And if I can find a friend to play with today that would greatly improve matters.
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| Friday, October 9th, 2009
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3:35 am - So this is what it feels like to be OCD!
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3:30 am. I sent off a really crappy and incomplete (not to mention late) lab*, then sighed and looked at my bed. I tried really hard to picture shutting off the lights and crawling into it. And then the stern me voice popped into my head and said, "Do you LIKE being eaten by bugs in the middle of the night? Do you WANT bugs to crawl on you and eat you? No? Good. Get the damned vacuum cleaner. Shut up and do it, whiner!"
So I did. The lights flickered so much I had to turn them down (strobe lights make me crazy in my old age. I've never had a seizure in my life, but I'm oddly convinced I will have one if I don't turn off things that annoy me that much), but I was fortunate enough not to blow a fuse. At 3:30 am. I am a terrible, terrible roommate.
I pulled the canister out of the vacuum and considered dragging it all the way to the cold outdoors to empty it, but there were holes in it anyway--plenty of escape routes! I decided to do the deed in the hallway.
Maybe it was just the dust cloud and some paranoia, but I imagined little black jumping things flying out of the plastic bag onto the carpet, the stairs, me . . .
I tied it off and stripped for the shower.
And when I put my clothes in the laundry room, and my old towel? And walked through the same hallway? I wanted to turn right back around and get back into the shower. If the hot water would hold out I'd turn on the spray and sleep there, drowning risk and pruning be damned!
I settled for salting my room again and putting on fresh pajamas.
The salt crystals feel strange and awful under my bare feet, and I'm twitching for the vacuum cleaner again . . .
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| Tuesday, October 6th, 2009
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3:07 am
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| Friday, October 2nd, 2009
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1:29 am
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| Wednesday, September 30th, 2009
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1:05 am - All I want.
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